Four Long Years - Wire

A collapse of concentration

A futility of words

A loss of all sensation

An arbitrary world

Too fast, too slow

The operator does not know

Can’t sleep, can’t weep

For years and years, not much to show

With luck, with charm

The operator may succeed

Impact, in fact

Today’s inspection may proceed

Finese, deceive and flatter

The chemically mis-matched

The sound of missing matter

Advances sealed and snatched